


I've Had the Time of my Life (in the Company of Fools)

by KilannaD



Series: What is it to be a Hero? [4]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Case Fic, Gen, OC-centric, POV Multiple, Post-Season/Series 01, Pre-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Universe Alteration-Peter is Matt's biological son, no beta we die like stereotypes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:21:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27729439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KilannaD/pseuds/KilannaD
Summary: Vinny feels like he’s losing it and then, as if God has found him worthy, Vinny gets the perfect opportunity to prove Carlo is dirty. A case. Specifically, a barrel murder, body found on the corner of Park Ave and E 61st. It doesn’t take long to identify the body as Ralph Coppola, a capo from the Genovese Family. It isn’t hard to guess that an enforcer from the Gambino Family did the hit considering Midtown is their territory. The real question is why someone from the 116th street crew was so far south. And what did Carlo Gambino know about it?__Or; Vinny thinks Carlo is dirty. Carlo thinks Vinny is dirty. Peter thinks they're both dirty. They're all wrong, but Beelzebub gets A CopTM anyway.
Relationships: OMC & OMC, Peter Parker & Carlo Gambino, Peter Parker & OMC(s), Peter Parker & Vincenzo "Vinny" Puzo, Vincenzo "Vinny" Puzo & Carlo Gambino
Series: What is it to be a Hero? [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2014840
Comments: 11
Kudos: 194





	I've Had the Time of my Life (in the Company of Fools)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Of Commissioner Gordons and Batmen](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19873258) by [candlesneedflame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/candlesneedflame/pseuds/candlesneedflame). 



> IMPORTANT: Long note ahead, skip to GLOSSARY if you don't care about meta stuff.
> 
> Y'allllllllllll this was sooo much fun to write. Like, so much fun. It involved a ton of googling and cackling and I loved all of it. Never enjoyed writing OCs so much. But there's actually a bunch of information you need, so, let's get to it.  
> Chapter title is from song Company of Fools by Great Big Sea.  
> This story is specifically inspired by https://archiveofourown.org/works/19873258, which is part of the Teenage Vigilante guide, another Matt mentors Peter series which I LOVE.  
> Vinny, the main OC here, was inspired by this Tumblr prompt; https://official-impravidus.tumblr.com/post/634883276011716608  
> Crescent_Blue, author of the Antichrist Verse, was kind enough to give me permission to use their Death Knell idea, and even told me the inspiration for that which is Aztec Death Whistles. Which are AWESOME. I want one of these so bad, go check them out here; https://youtu.be/I9QuO09z-SI  
> There's a ton of context stuff when it comes to the Mafia in this, and I also use a lot of simple Italian words for the sake of world-building. That being said, as much as I would LOVE to learn the language, I don't actually speak Italian, so feel free to correct me if any of that is wrong. I used the real Five Families of NYC in this, and Carlo Gambino (the grandfather of the OC by the same name) was a real dude who did some real serious shit. That being said, any inconsistencies with rl are by design. Also, I really hope I didn't piss off any mafia people reading this. (Tho I'm probably on an FBI watchlist now... oops) And Puzo is the last name of the author of The Godfather, which is just me being funny. I've also been told there's a tradition of naming children after grandparents, so uh, lots of the elder children are all named the same XD  
> Also; Ned gets a codename here. Mostly bc I'm going to be doing more with him as guy-in-the-chair and he deserves a code name like Micro has. I named him Belphegor for several reasons. 1. it's another prince of hell name so I'm keeping the theme. B) Belphegor (demon) is the demon of sloth/laziness and is known to tempt people with ingenious discoveries/inventions to make them rich, which I thought was super cool in reference to the social stereotype of being good on computers makes you lazy. And thirdly; I just love the idea of Ned going 'I want a super kickass devil name if I'm going to be on Team Devil' and so that's what he got.
> 
> GLOSSARY:  
> ITALIAN WORDS USED:  
> Compagno-partner  
> Cugino-cousin  
> figlio di puttana-son of a b*  
> I diavoli-the devils  
> Merda-shit  
> Nipote-grandchild/nephew/niece  
> Nonna-grandma  
> Nonno-grandpaScusa-Sorry  
> Papa-dad  
> Sorella-sister  
> Zio/Zia-uncle/aunt  
> MAFIA SLANG USED:  
> Barrel Murder-type of murder where the body is left to rot in a barrel  
> Capo-leader of a crew in the mafia  
> Capodecina-leader of a crew of ten soldiers  
> Capo de tutti capi-Boss of Bosses, still sometimes used by the media, but technically stopped being in use when the Commission formed.  
> Carpet-meeting between two leaders of Families.  
> Commission-the group of ruling Dons. Think a little like the UN but for Mafia.  
> Dons-Leader of a Mafia Family. Usually only used for the Sicilian mafia, but I'm a little looser with it.  
> Gangbuster-a cop that goes after gangs/mafia a lot  
> Golden Age-the time before RICO (a law that made persecuting mafia easier)  
> Go to the mattresses-to go into hiding  
> Kiss of death-a public kiss given to someone to warn them to do/not do something or die for it.  
> Made men-people officially inducted into the mafia  
> Mafioso/i-members of the mafia, singular male/plural  
> Make one's bones-a practice to kill in order to join the mafia. A little outdated, but I used it.  
> Man of respect-a high ranking officer in the mafia.  
> Mechanic-someone who rigs dice/number games.  
> Old man-another word for Don, but I also use it in the sense of father  
> Parakeet-a good looking woman  
> Squeal-to give information/to snitch.  
> I think that's all of them, let me know if there's something you don't understand!  
> Hope you enjoy!

Vinny is at family dinner when he gets the call. _Nonna_ is clicking her tongue before he can even pull his phone from his pockets and he dips his head to her.

“ _Scusa, Nonna._ ” He forgot to put it on silent, but that’s no excuse. _Papa_ is already defending him, booming about his youngest son being an accomplished man of the law, but Vinny doesn’t listen. It’d just make him blush which would make his siblings tease. Even with his tanned skin, it’s always clear when he blushes.

The phone call is from Brett, which is strange. Vinny’s known Brett since the Academy and Brett knows that Sunday’s are family dinner night.

“Is it important, _Zio_?” Martina asks. She’s holding Luca’s spoon up, and the baby keeps leaning away from his cousin.

“Family is more important, _nipote_.” There’s a call of _hear hear_ from all his aunts and uncles, _papa_ laughing loudly among them. _Nonna_ is pleased, at least. Vinny goes to put his phone back, but Brett sends a text that catches his eye.

**_Brett:_ ** _Liam found at a weapons deal at Pier 88. He just confessed. I’m sorry._

Liam Larrick has been Vinny’s partner for eight years—half the time Vinny’s been on the force. Liam’s been serving for twenty years, half of that detective work. There’s no way he’d be dirty. No way Vinny wouldn’t catch that, wouldn’t see the signs.

“ _Cugino_?” Vinny looks up at cousin Tony, takes in the worry on his family’s faces. _Zia_ Sandra and her family couldn’t make it, so the restaurant isn’t as full as usual, but there are still over forty faces, all quiet and concerned.

“Liam’s just confessed to being dirty.” There’s a ripple of gasps, some of the young ones looking confused at the term, but _Nonna’s_ face goes hard. Her and _Nonno_ , bless his soul, came over during the Golden Age and worked hard to make _Puzo’s Pizzeria_ legit. But through the years she’d seen some bad things, known bad people. She told the story of the scar across her brow every Christmas, about how she’d gotten it by saying no to a Gambino capo.

“Go deal with it, _Vincenzo_.” Sunday is family night, everyone knows it. But when _Nonna_ gives an order, you follow it.

Vinny goes for his coat.

* * *

There’s an internal investigation. Vinny is clean, and he knows it, but being declared innocent doesn’t make him feel better when Sarge stares him down, listing slowly in his southern drawl every account of bribes taken, extortion, fixing, and perjury that Liam committed over the last twenty years. It doesn’t make Vinny feel better when the other detectives skirt around him, few being subtle with their suspicions.

It doesn’t help when Vinny gets assigned a new partner; Carlo Gambino. Vinny knows the name, knows it from the old stories, knows that somewhere in Carlo’s family _someone_ threatened Vinny’s _Nonna_.

Going to Sarge doesn’t do anything, any warning that the Gambinos run the gambling dens and local fences go unheeded, only earning a sharp “I trust that _Carlo_ , at least, is moving past his origins.” Whatever that means, Vinny doesn’t know. But he does know he’s stuck with Gambino for the foreseeable future. At least this time, Vinny knows to watch out for dirt.

* * *

The problem is this; Carlo, as far as Vinny can tell, _has no dirt_. He’s well mannered, cultured, smooth with his words. Doesn’t ever mention his family, or anyone close. Everything about him screams clean and Vinny doesn’t trust it. _Nonna_ , when he tells her, pinches her lips and shakes her head. “ _Family is important,_ nipote _. But not everyone has family_ ,” she says.

Thanks, _Nonna_. But not helpful.

Vinny feels like he’s losing it and then, as if God has found him worthy, Vinny gets the perfect opportunity to prove Carlo is dirty. A case. Specifically, a barrel murder, body found on the corner of Park Ave and E 61st. It doesn’t take long to identify the body as Ralph Coppola, a capo from the Genovese Family. It isn’t hard to guess that an enforcer from the Gambino Family did the hit considering Midtown is their territory. The real question is _why_ someone from the 116th street crew was so far south. And what did Carlo Gambino know about it?

* * *

Carlo is _convinced_ that Vinny is dirty. At first, he wanted to trust that IA hadn’t missed something, but the longer he partners with Vinny, the more Carlo knows he’s with one of the families. He’s huge, his dark hair always slicked back, his trench coat always clean. That wouldn’t be enough, normally, but when Carlo hears the man _talk_ , it all fits into place.

“Don’t test me, bozo,” he growls at a drug bust. “This can go real easy or real hard.”

“Go to _Zio Marco_ ,” he tells a scared sixteen-year-old they find breaking into a bakery, after the charges are dropped. “He’ll turn you into a man of respect.”

“My cousin Tony and his boyfriend are mechanics,” he mentions casually.

“I have to help my _Zio_ with a body,” he says, eyes glassy when he excuses himself from a patrol early.

(And maybe that last one turned out to be the body of their recently passed pet, _but still_.) Carlo grew up a Gambino, named after _the_ Carlo Gambino, the _Capo de tutti capi_ himself. He’s always wanted out and now that he finally is, all ties cut, he’s stuck with a bent copper.

The barrel murder, when it shows up, is Carlo’s chance to prove Vinny dirty. He just has to figure out how.

* * *

Beelzebub is out in Midtown, still considering how to find himself A CopTM when he stumbles across a murder scene. He hovers on the roof, staying in the shadows and listens to what the two detectives on the scene (one named Gambino, the other Puzo) are saying.

“Barrel murder, bullet through the skull,” the ME says. “I’ll do a full autopsy to make sure, but my guess is a .22 did this.”

“An execution,” Puzo remarks, humming as he takes in the street around them. The corner has apartment buildings on all sides and even this late in the evening, civilian traffic has to be redirected around the crime scene. Beelzebub wonders how someone could be killed here without the entire city knowing. “Strange they’d use a barrel murder. Last time an old man called for one of these, _Capo de tutti capi_ was still in use.”

“You’d know,” Gambino grunted. Puzo stares him down, scowling, and BZ’s danger sense prickles, his hair standing on end. He hovers on the edge of the balcony he’s on, staring hard at both the detectives. Something about them makes him vibrate, entire body lighting up.

The ME stands up, brushing off her suit pants. “I’ll get you what I can as soon as possible.”

Puzo tips his head to her. “Thanks, doll.” He turns to Gambino, baring his teeth. “You wanna get me a list of the known Gambino _mafiosi_?”

“I’ll ask the Sergeant,” Gambino snips back. They disperse shortly after, but Beelzebub’s interest is peeked. A quick google search at home shows that Gambino is one of the Five Families of NYC. And considering the hostilities between the two detectives, Peter’s willing to bet Puzo is from a rival mafia. Neither of them are suitable cops, but maybe if Beelzebub can get evidence they're dirty, someone _else_ on the force will be willing to work with him.

* * *

Vinny finds the list of made men and suspected connected on his desk in the morning. Carlo is already in, flipping through what Vinny guesses is the ME report. Silently, after Vinny has read and set aside the _four page long_ list of potential suspects, Carlo offers the file.

“No match on file for ballistics. What little forensic evidence found with the body is useless until we have something to compare it to.”

Vinny scans the list. Carpet fibers, old paint, a little bit of plaster that the ME notes might mean the execution happened close to a wall that the bullet hit after exit. Carlo is right that alone, it might mean little, but Vinny has connections.

“Come on, _compagno_ ,” Vinny drawls, letting the term hang as an insult for a beat. Carlo’s smooth lips curl in a sneer. “My cousin Tony can help us out.”

Carlo goes still. “The mechanic?”

“Nah, this is a different cousin.”

* * *

Tony’s construction place is centered in Little Italy, so they drive down there. He comes out smiling, arms spread wide and his sister Martina trailing after him.

“ _Cugino_! What brings Vinny the Mangler to my work?”

“ _My_ work, I’m sorry to say.” Vinny hugs them both and they each pointedly ignore Carlo. Besides a strangled sound when Tony greeted Vinny, Carlo hasn’t made a single noise.

“Anything to help family,” Tony assures, and brings them to his office.

Vinny hasn’t been by for a while and feels the nag of guilt when he realizes Martina painted a mural and he can’t say when it happened.

“Beautiful work,” he says instead, nodding at the bright colours and dark shades of the Avengers.

She beams, shoulders going a little further back. “ _Grazie, cugino._ I think I want to do one with vigilantes, next. _I diavoli_ of Hell’s Kitchen, especially.”

“Your cousin is a cop and you support vigilantism?” They all paused to look at Carlo, Martina’s back going straight and lips pressing into a thin line.

“Anyone who saves lives in a friend of the Puzo family,” she says shortly. Carlo looks startled, but doesn’t say anything else.

“What can I do for you, Vinny?” Tony presses, turning the attention back to him. Vinny makes sure he can’t see Martina or Carlo. If she goes for his throat, he doesn’t want to be a witness against her.

“These are the only clues for where a body was hit. Can you give me any suggestions on locations?” Tony’s eyes sharpen, staring at Vinny for way too long before flicking to Carlo for half a beat. Vinny’s family is many things, but stupid is not one. Vinny has no doubt they’ve heard about the barrel murder and assumed the hit was a Gambino one.

“Give me a day or two,” Tony finally settles on. “I’ll get you what I can.”

“Thank you, _cugino_. I owe you.”

“Anything for family.”

* * *

They start looking for the last person to see Coppola alive, but no one is talking and it leads nowhere. With no other leads, they wait for something to happen.

Carlo _hates_ waiting.

* * *

When Matt gets home from work, he finds Peter vibrating at the dining table, something small in his hands.

“Matt!” Peter’s up in a flash and Matt has to lean back to avoid getting hit in the face with… something. It’s too small to identify and Matt is a little more worried by the _racing_ of Peter’s heart. That can’t be healthy. “Oh Goddess, _Matt._ Matt, you have to blow into this.”

“ _What_?”

“It’s a whistle, Matt.”

“That is too large to be a whistle.” It seems to be closer to the size of his fist. Peter does something though and suddenly it’s tiny, barely the length of his pinky. He does something—presses a button? There’s the sound of metal rubbing against metal—and it’s large again.

“It’s a homemade whistle. Matt, please?”

Matt has been told Peter has the large puppy dog eyes down to a pat. These should not affect Matt because Matt, despite all his powers, is still blind. These are facts.

These facts do not change the other fact of the situation which is; Matt swears to God he can _hear_ when Peter does the puppy eyes and it makes him weak. Terribly weak. Foggy says it hits his ‘dad mode activation switch’, which, _rude_. Matt isn’t that easy.

He still takes the whistle. It’s round, metal but with some kind of weird layer under the iron. Rock? Stone of some kind for sure. There’s something carved into it but Matt doesn’t have enough time to figure out what before Peter is showing him where to blow. He gives a tiny puff of air.

Matt drops the damn thing like a hot potato, hair standing on end and ears ringing. Peter is still vibrating.

“Isn’t it _awesome_?!”

“Peter, kiddo, sweetie, darling innocent child of mine. Why the fuck does your whistle sound like the screams of the dying?”

“It’s an Aztec Death Whistle. Or, well, kinda. Homemade. School made, I mean. Made them in shop today because the real lesson was stupid.”

Matt processes this. Peter blows the whistle. Matt instinctively checks for the smell of blood or cries for help, made harder by being partially deaf by the sound. None are forthcoming but the downstairs neighbor hoots and says that he knew Murdock was into kinky shit. Matt cannot process this either.

“Why?” he finally gets out. Peter, bless him, understands immediately.

“In history, we were talking about the Aztecs right? They were _wild_ , Matt. Like, made New York seem _normal_ , wild. Crazy bastards, all of them. Anyway, they’d use these things for religious ceremonies or when they charged into battles. This one,” Peter rattles the whistle. Matt takes a step back. “Doesn’t sound right. I used talc plated with metal, but getting it foldable means that it doesn’t _quite_ sound like a woman being tortured.” Oh pity. Definitely the worse part of this. “Do you remember when I called you a couple nights ago and it startled you so bad you fell into Claire’s dumpster again?”

“That is _not_ what happened.”

“Uh-huh, sure Matt. Anyway, I was thinking we could use these instead. We can have a set of codes and that way we don’t have to worry about anyone overhearing our calls. Plus, they're loud enough that with our enhanced hearing, we could hear each other from anywhere in the Midtown or Hell’s Kitchen area.” Okay, valid reasoning. Peter is a genius, Matt knows that.

But why did the whistle have to sound like a scream?

“It’s a _Death Whistle_ ,” Peter emphasizes when asked that very question. Matt does not understand.

“Don’t worry about it,” Peter dismisses. Matt worries. “I invited Ned over, do you mind?” Oh, we’re subject changing now. Okay.

“No, ‘course not. What’re you two planning?”

“Oh, I need him to do some guy-in-the-chair stuff, don’t worry about it.”

Matt considers this sentence. Runs through the list of vernacular in the _1001 Words Used by modern Teenagers_ book Karen had gotten him. He still Did Not UnderstandTM. He really hopes it isn’t a sex thing.

“And what exactly is…that?”

“A guy-in-the-chair? It’s like, the one dude who handles the tech stuff, and research, and basically stays home and provides the hero with whatever he needs. Not quite the Robin to my Batman because a guy-in-the-chair doesn’t usually go _out_ , but close.”

“Oh, like Alfred.”

“Yeah, man. Except Ned can’t do a bunch of crazy MI6 stuff like Alfred in _Gotham_. Do you have a guy-in-the-chair? I don’t think I’ve ever asked.”

“No. Never needed one.”

“Huh. Okay. You want to figure out signals with the whistles before Ned gets here?”

As long as it didn’t involve _hearing_ the whistles, no, Matt wouldn’t mind.

* * *

Beelzebub hovers outside the 17th Precinct, Belphegor—Ned wanted a code name and Peter has to admit he doesn’t mind the extra anonymity if someone overhears him—murmuring in his ear.

“ _Okay, Carlo Gambino doesn’t have a car registered, but Vincenzo Puzo does. You’re looking for a 1967 Cadillac Eldorado. Navy blue, license plate is PUZ-7792_.”

Beelzebub scans the parking garage, waiting for a straggler to pull out. “Found it. Heading in.”

“ _Roger_.” There’s a few moments of quiet, Beelzebub glad that they’d managed to time this in between patrols, leaving the parking lot empty save for the detective cars. Over the line, Beelzebub can just make out a muttered, “ _God, this is so cool_.” Grinning a little, he finds one of the windows cracked open. Makes his life easier. It doesn’t take long to lower the bug—originally bought off eBay and then modified by Ned—down behind the seat. When it’s settled, Beelzebub flips back, returning to his perch in the beams over the parking garage.

“Bug is set.”

“ _Pulling up the feed_.” A pause of silence. “ _Alright, bug seems to be functioning. I-wait. Hold on, there’s something on the radio scanners_.”

“You hacked into their radios?”

“ _Dude, I’m like, elbow deep in their system. Wanted to make sure Gambino and Puzo weren’t going to walk out on you. Anyway, looks like there’s been calls of gunshots fired in three different locations. They're low on guys—probably because so many new recruits are being sent to the 15 th—so one is only getting a single dispatch_.”

“Where?”

“ _North-west of you. Where 10 th meets 56th_.” Beelzebub is already moving, out of the parking space and into the air, running across the glass wall of the 17th until he can get a good angle to fling himself up higher. “ _Desk Sergeant’s just ordered a couple detectives to help join the beat cops until backup from the 15 th arrives. Puzo and Gambino are on their way_.” Another beat of silence from Belphegor, and Beelzebub reaches for the new pocket with his whistle. “ _Puzo said he thinks it might be the families breaking into war_.”

“Fuck. Hold on.” Daredevil is on patrol, he knows. But this takes priority. Unlike at home, Beelzebub doesn’t hold back his air when he uses the whistle. One quick, sharp blow, and another longer one that he lets follow him as he swings. The screams echo in the air, bouncing across the buildings and rattling into the night.

One short for an emergency. Long movement for _on my way_.

Another long shriek answers him.

“ _Holyshit, BZ, I heard that from my apartment_.”

“Well, at least we know they work.” Beelzebub can make out the gunshots now, yells and curses in Italian creating a cacophony. “Found the scene. Go silent unless it’s important.”

“ _Got it_.”

Beelzebub throws himself into the mealy, knocking one man unconscious and slinging his gun at the man he’d previously been shooting. Somewhere in the middle of it, there’s a squeal of tires on asphalt but he’s a little busy dealing with the thirty-plus guys all trying to shoot each other. There are no random crates, no obvious deal that just went wrong. But there are bodies on the ground and copper in the air.

He flips over a guy charging at him with an axe—outdated, much?—twists out of the way of a bullet, sees something out of the corner of his eye and his danger sense _shrieks_ , but he’s spotted a woman hiding in the alley, goes to grab her-

Something hits him from the other way, sending him to the ground, woman tucked on top of him. Beelzebub brings himself and the woman to their feet, barely manages to realize Puzo pushed him away from the spray of a submachine gun, his partner taking position at his back. Beelzebub webs the large, hanging sign of a business, brings it down to provide cover on one side. Puzo and Gambino both shoot him startled looks but Beelzebub is already gone, swinging the woman down the street before returning, ricocheting off one wall, over the bullets and landing behind one line of fire. Their enemies, in a sudden burst of motion, find themselves otherwise occupied as a figure in red lands from the roof.

Daredevil made it to the party.

Now only dealing with half the equation, Beelzebub throws himself back in, getting cover fire from Puzo, Gambino, and whatever cops they’re both shouting orders at. Battle isn’t memorized steps or elegant dance moves, but there’s an energy that takes everyone over, sweeps them up into the same tempo of dodge, attack, _react_. Beelzebub throws webs, swings one gunner into a line of others, lets the burn of his wrists ground him in the rush of adrenaline. He takes a punch to the solar plexus, rolls with the weight behind it, comes back up to headbutt the woman in front of him. He misjudges the height though and his nose cracks with the force. She goes down, he webs her and moves on to the next one.

Eventually, the street corner stills, adrenaline pounding in his blood, heart beating a war drum in his chest. Daredevil is at his side the next moment, hand on Beelzebub’s shoulder, head tilted. Double-D’s arm is a little red, but it looks like a graze and the broken nose—quickly set—is the worse injury among them.

“Come on.” Beelzebub reaches back when Daredevil tugs him, wraps an arm around his waist and uses a web to bring them to the roof across the street. None of the cops even try to stop them. On the roof, Beelzebub pauses, breathing for a moment before remembering Belphegor is still on the line.

“Belphegor? Double-D and I are both alright, situation has been dealt with.”

“ _Good to hear. The other two shootouts have already been stopped_.”

“Alright.” It’s still early and Beelzebub had planned to tail Puzo and Gambino, but they’d likely be stuck dealing with the mafia families for the rest of the night. “Do you mind monitoring Puzo and Gambino for a little longer? See if either of them mention anything important about tonight?”

“ _Sure thing. I’ll activate the comms if an emergency comes up_.”

“Great. Record anything interesting. Daredevil and I are going back to our patrol.”

“ _Got it. Belphegor out_.” The comm goes staticky and Beelzebub turns it off, slipping it into the padded pocket that holds his whistle.

“Glad to know the whistles work.”

“Hmm. You sure you want to stay out? That wasn’t an easy fight.”

“I figured I’d stay with you for the rest of the evening, make sure this didn’t give anyone else ideas.” Double-D tips his head, considering. Eventually, he agrees and they head back out. The rest of the evening, thankfully, goes smoother.

* * *

After what feels like hours, Carlo finally gets to collapse. Admittedly, it’s in the passenger seat of his dirty partner’s car, but still. Dirty, for once, is literal. Both of them are covered in dust, blood and the vomit of a rookie who got a lucky death shot and couldn’t handle it.

Vinny hadn’t even blinked at the bile coating his black and white spectator shoes, had just pulled the rookie to the side, sat him on the ground, and gotten him bottled water. When the shock had set in, Vinny had pulled them together, forehead to forehead and said, low and harsh, “That _figlio di puttana_ has probably killed others. He was trying to kill people _tonight_. If he’d survived, he might have escaped custody. Might’ve walked. And he probably would’ve gone on killing others. You just saved lives, slugger. It’ll haunt you, but always remember you did good tonight.” Vinny pressed a card into their hand. “You decide you want to talk? Go visit _Zia_ Mona. Tell her Vinny sent you and she’ll take real good care of you.”

Thinking about it, Carlo can’t help wondering if he’d recruited someone else or—dare he think it—helped a kid not yet in his twenties. A lot of things Vinny did screamed a man of respect, but tonight, when he’d had the choice of letting the vigilante get shot down and keeping himself safe to live another day, he’d gone running into the field of bullets.

Carlo hadn’t hesitated to cover his back, to take the shot at the _idiota_ using a submachine gun.

~~He saw their face as they fell. Carlo had trained her.~~

“Why’d you do it?”

Vinny startles, hand clenching around the stick shift of his car. Carlo hadn’t been expecting to talk either. “What?”

“The vigilante. He was guarding the woman, she would’ve lived. You could’ve let him get hit and stepped in afterward.”

“I ain’t going to let someone willing to give their life for others die,” he snaps, accent thick in a way it usually isn’t.

“I don’t know a lot of cops unwilling to let a vigilante take a hit.”

“An’ I don’t know a lot of made men willing to shoot their own family.”

“I am _not_ a made man,” Carlo hisses, anger chilling through his blood. He’d refused to make his bones at twenty-one and he’s fought the last five years to be a respected officer.

“You’re a _Gambino_ ,” Vinny spits out, acid coating the name.

 ~~Sometimes Carlo says it the same way~~.

“I walked away from that life, made choices my conscious could live with. Can you say the same?”

“Can I-” Vinny swings to look at him, shock making his eyes wide and parting his lips. Carlo’s never really paid attention to Vinny, knows only distantly that he’s attractive and hulking, pushing 6’3” with wide shoulders, square jaw clean-shaven. Like this, though, Vinny looks younger and soft, like surprise pulls away his stress. “You think _I’m_ a _mafioso_? Tell me you’re kidding.”

“Can you blame me? The way you act, the way you talk, the way you _always_ have a connection somewhere for someone? I know actual families less connected than you. Hell, your cousin called you ‘Vinny the Mangler.’”

“My family calls me that because when I was seven I messed up a pizza real bad. Looked like a mangled cat. The Puzo family has _never_ had ties to a mafia. Not once since my _nonna_ and _nonno_ came over from Italy.” Carlo doesn’t know how much he believes that, but Vinny’s voice is low and serious and Carlo-

Carlo remembers Vinny not questioning Carlo at his back. At listening to the orders Carlo shouted to other men and building off of them, not going against them.

The car remains quiet for a few long moments. Carlo can’t bring himself to say anything, helpless to do anything but rerun every interaction with Vinny he’s had, Sinatra playing in the background. When they get back to the Precinct, neither leave the car after it’s parked.

“You really not with the family?” Vinny finally asks.

Carlo weighs the question, weighs the real inquiry beneath it

~~Can I trust you?~~

and decides, _fuck it_ , he wants to be able to trust his partner.

~~He misses having family.~~

“I’m named after my grandfather.” Vinny doesn’t say anything, probably wondering where Carlo is going. It’s tradition to name children after grandparents, but Carlo doesn’t know where else to start, how to explain what he’s known since he was six and saw his first man tortured and killed. “Carlo Gambino lived through the Castellammarese War, through the formation of the Commission, helped with the _Anastasia murder_. He’s the reason the Mangano Family turned into the Gambino Family. He’s a legend and I’m his eldest grandson. I was expected to follow in his footsteps, to take over the family, to become the next Don.

“And I _never_ wanted it. I don’t want to deal with rigged games, and prostitution and murder and all that crap. I’ve only ever wanted to help people and as a cop? As a _detective_? I can do that. But only if people stop seeing my name.”

Vinny turns off the car, music cutting off. He faces Carlo, jaw set but for once, Carlo doesn’t see any disgust. “My _nonna_ was a real parakeet when she came over. A Gambino didn’t take kindly when she said no and she still wears the scar proudly. I don’t like mafia, I don’t like their associates, and my family _hates_ the Gambinos.” Vinny shrugs, big shoulders taking up all the space in the car. “But _Nonna_ told me that not everyone has family, and it’s only now occurred to me that she meant that sometimes people step away from family that isn’t really family.” He offers his hand, smiling just a little. “My last partner was dirty so being my partner isn’t going to make other’s look kindly on you, but I’m at least willing to look past your name.”

Carlo reaches out and takes his hand, returning the smile. “Glad to hear it, _compagno_. Let’s get to work.”

* * *

Peter, when he gets home from patrol, checks his phone. Belphegor’s sent him an attachment on his burner, tag lined _I think we need to reconsider our plan_. Peter listens to the recording of Puzo and Gambino (Vinny and Carlo) as he undresses and realizes, with sudden clarity that wipes away his exhaustion and makes him vibrate with energy, that _these_ are his cops.

He reaches for his burner, mind racing with a new plan. He has to get these cops to trust Beelzebub and while saving his life earlier that evening is a good start, he needs something more.

He texts Belphegor.

**Beelzebub:** _Get me everything they have on the barrel murder. I think they could use some help._

**Belphegor:** _you’ll have it by tomorrow._

* * *

The next day, Carlo presses a coffee—double expresso because while Vinny might not be a made man, he is a soulless husk—into his partner’s hands and gets a pleased smile and—better yet—a lead on the case.

“None of the guys arrested last night are talking, but cousin Tony came through. Got a list of buildings that use that combination of materials. Any of these ring a bell?”

Carlo looks over the text—sender marked only as _cugino Tony_ and Carlo wonders if all his cousin Tonys are named that—and recognizes only one name. It doesn’t make him feel better.

“I remember my old man talking about NewLife Consulting. Never figured out what it covered.”

“You knew it’s a cover?”

Carlo rolls his eyes and hands back the phone, drowning the last of his americano. “In the Gambino family, _everything_ is a cover.”

“Good enough for me.” Vinny volts out of his chair, reaching for his jacket.

“Wait, we’re going now?”

“Sure. Unless you have a reason to wait?”

“A better lead?”

Vinny shrugs, heading out the door.

“I trust your ‘tel. Let’s check it out.”

Carlo has to blink, considering that sentence. Just yesterday Vinny had believed that Carlo was a mafia man. And now that they seemed to agree to put that behind them he just—did? Moved on?

Was this man _real_?

Carlo follows.

* * *

NewLife Consulting doesn’t look evil, Vinny thinks. All clean lines and fresh paint job in the middle of Midtown.

Of course, then he peeks into the back window and sees a handful of women tied on the floor so, you know. Fuck them.

There’s no one there when they make it into the building, and the women all speak Russian and nothing else so communicating is a little hard. Still, when a guy walks in with a sub in his hand, it’s not hard to figure out that the guard went for his lunch break.

Vinny didn’t think mobsters got lunch breaks. It’s surprisingly progressive.

By the time backup’s shown, they’ve found blood against a wall that will probably match the stuff on the body, and Vinny’s called _Zio_ Marco and let him know that he has six new clients in need of help getting their visas. After he’s shown the last into a cruiser, he finds Carlo putting away his phone, face tight.

“There’s another body. At MoMA.”

“What? A place that public? They sure it’s for us?”

Carlo hesitates, looking away. Vinny goes still, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He’s trying not to think of him as a Gambino. He _is_. But it’s an effort to remind himself that Carlo isn’t an enemy.

“My old man is a fan of modern art,” Carlo murmurs, pulling open his car door. “Donates to the museum regularly.”

A message, then. And not a subtle one. If Vinny thought shootouts in the streets were bad, this meant a whole other monster. Just this once, Vinny might have to call out of Sunday dinner.

When they get to the crime scene, Carlo manages one look at the body—tied up on a cross, body hanging with an icepick through the ear—and turns away, face pale. The ME looks confused, but doesn’t call after them when Vinny pulls Carlo back towards the car, shoving a water bottle in his hands. Carlo drains it, then stares blankly at the plastic in his hands. Vinny throws it into the recycling, tapping Carlo’s cheek with the back of his hand.

“You wanna tell me what that’s ‘bout?”

“It’s-” Carlo cuts himself off, clenching his jaw and hissing through his teeth. “That’s my little brother up there.”

Oh.

Oh _merda_.

This isn’t just about to turn ugly.

It’s about to turn into _war_.

* * *

Beelzebub heads out as soon as he hears. It isn’t that unusual to see him in the late afternoons, especially in Midtown

~~Hell’s Kitchen is night territory.~~

so most people don’t seem to think too much of it. He gets a few hoots and hollers and he flips for them, basking in the cheers. It’s good to feel loved by his city.

What merriment he collected disappears when he gets to the Museum of Modern Art. It’s all over the news by this point, of course. Ned had sent him the _Bugle_ link, and even TrishTalk has picked up on it. That doesn’t prepare him for the blood, the smell, the body. Cops are swarming the place, someone who must be the ME pulling something out of the body’s pants—a gun, small caliber. Didn’t Belphegor say that the police report marked the first victim as killed by a .22?

People are just now getting out of work, so the foot traffic being blocked off is thick. Beelzebub stays in the shadows cast by the building across the street, breathing deep and focusing on the sounds around him. The ME is rattling off technical jargon that cop shows tell Beelzebub translates to time and method of death. A beat cop is reporting to Detectives Puzo and Gambino that witnesses claim the street had been closed from noon to two and the MoMA itself was closed today to set up a big showcase happening the next day. Everyone described the people keeping the street closed as the average construction workers and no one could identify them.

Lovely.

Beelzebub listens in while the cop retreats, leaving Carlo and Vinny alone.

“I thought Coppola was just a capo,” Vinny hisses. “Why would the Genovese family retaliate by killing the Don’s son?”

“I have no idea.” Carlo pulls Vinny into a shadowed corner where two buildings meet. “Whatever the reason Coppola got capped must’ve been huge for Don Genovese to escalate. My old man _loved_ Geno. Ever since it became clear I wanted nothing to do with the business, Geno stepped up as favourite son.”

Great fucking spirits, Beelzebub thinks. Carlo isn’t just a Gambino but the Don’s son? And his brother is the victim?

“I haven’t asked,” Vinny begins deliberately, “Because I didn’t expect you to answer questions ‘bout your family. But do you have _any_ idea what caused this?”

Carlo is quiet for a few minutes, and Beelzebub sneaks closer, hovering on the wall above them both. Neither look up.

“The Gambinos have always been against drugs, since my grandfather’s time. If the Genovese tried dealing in their territory, that might cause friction. But I don’t have a clue why a capo, especially such a small time capodecina, is apparently worth the same as the heir of a family.”

“You think your brother could be the one who took the hit on Coppola?”

“Wouldn’t be surprised. He always liked the old-style stuff.”

“What do you think will happen next?” Both detectives whirl up at Beelzebub, startled by the sudden intrusion into their conversation. Neither of them lower their guns when they realize who it is, but they don’t shoot either. Beelzebub crawls down the wall a little, keeping a close eye on the tension springing between their shoulders.

“Normal people don’t bend like that,” Carlo finally says, eyeing where Beelzebub’s knee is by his ear, arms spread a little.

“I ain’t that normal, Carlo.” Beelzebub grins when they both stiffen at the familiarity, but turns to Vinny. “You prob’ly saved my life yesterday. Thanks, Vinny, I owe you.”

“You were protecting a civilian.” Vinny inches his gun down a little but doesn’t holster it. Carlo follows his lead. “I don’t believe in letting that go unrewarded.”

“So you won’t mind me helping out, eh?”

“With the case?” Carlo asks. “Why you interested in this anyway?”

Because Beelzebub needs A CopTM. Or, in this case; Cop _s_. “I ain’t a fan of mafia war in my city.”

“Is anyone?” Vinny throws out. He finally puts away his gun and waits for Carlo to do the same. “As cops we can’t condone vigilantism.”

“Then consider me a concerned citizen.” Beelzebub turns to Carlo, lets his smile drop. “I need names if I’m going to help.”

“What do you plan on doing?”

Beelzebub shrugs. “You prob’ly don’t want the answer to that.”

“I don’t accept killing,” he snaps.

“An’ I don’t kill,” Beelzebub shoots back. “Us devils don’t believe in leaving bodies.”

There are a few moments of tense quiet before Vinny finally asks, “Why you do this? Why not leave it to us?”

~~Because with great power comes great responsibility.~~

“Because sometimes the system is crap,” Beelzebub settles on saying, “An’ can’t do what needs to be done. You can’t go after mobsters without evidence. I can get you evidence. But I _need names_.”

Carlo finally lists six, Vinny looking doubtful the whole time.

“You need our numbers?” Vinny throws in; the most reluctant form of consent Beelzebub has ever heard.

“It’s cute you think I don’t have them already.”

Beelzebub laughs at their faces as he flips away.

* * *

It doesn’t take long to hunt them each down. Beelzebub brings Daredevil with him because while Beelzebub has done some dark shit to get answers, Double-D will always be better at it.

They all talk. And they can even all agree on the same thing.

Carpet’s rolling out at Gapstow Bridge the next night at sundown. After a few more questions, they figure out ‘carpet’ is mafia speak for two heads of families meeting. Which, wonderful. Now all they have to do is get the cops there to arrest them whenever they say something illegal.

It takes a bit, but Beelzebub eventually convinces Daredevil that no, he doesn’t need to be involved with the rest of this, Beelzebub can get the information to Carlo and Vinny and provide them back up. They compromise on Daredevil staying in the north-west part of Hell’s Kitchen so he’ll be closer if Beelzebub calls for backup and if Beelzebub isn’t home by midnight, he’s so grounded, but it’s not the worse set up.

Belphegor gets Vinny and Carlo’s phone numbers and passes them on. Beelzebub sends them a text saying;

**Beelzebub:** _carpet at Gapstow Bridge sundown tomorrow._

**Mangler:** _It’ll be taken care of._

**Bambi:** _Glad I haven’t seen any bodies._

**Beelzebub:** _where’s the trust Bambi?_

**Bambi:** _Bambi????_

**Beelzebub:** _youre smol and your last name is close enough._

**Bambi:** _I’m arresting you if you show up at the carpet._

**Beelzebub:** _sure you are._

There are several minutes of no response and Beelzebub goes to put away his phone, ready to turn in for the night, when another message comes in.

**Bambi:** _Thank you._

Peter is fairly sure this means Beelzebub has CopsTM now.

Fuck yeah, mission accomplished.

* * *

They don’t say who their source is, obviously, but after side-eyeing Vinny, Sarge looks Carlo up and down and gives them the go-ahead to set up an op.

For once in his life, Vinny does an op that doesn’t go wrong. Admittedly, that’s because Beelzebub webs both the dons before they can run after Don Genovese admits to trying to deal drugs in Midtown and the cops move in. Still, a victory is a victory.

(Carlo doesn’t arrest Beelzebub and when an overeager cop tries to go after the vigilante, Vinny slaps them upside the head and tells them to concentrate on the important players.)

Neither of the dons talk, but one of the guards Genovese had brought with him cracks after three hours with Vinny and Carlo. For a deal after he confesses to Geno’s murder, the guard admits Coppola had been Genovese’s bastard and the one to suggest moving in on drug deals in Midtown despite the Gambino Family’s legendary refusal to use the stuff.

After NewLife Construction is done being processed, they find enough evidence to confirm Geno Gambino killed Ralph Coppola. They have enough to press drug charges at Genovese but unless they find a miracle, they have nothing to hold Don Gambino on. He hadn’t talked much during the carpet, and they have nothing to confirm he gave Geno the contract on Coppola.

The night after the carpet, sitting at a dive bar in Little Italy, Vinny and Carlo each nurse amaretto. They should be celebrating, should be glad. They got the leader of one of the Five Families behind bars, as well as a whole slew of men from the street shootouts and the carpet.

But tomorrow night the forty-eight-hour holding on Gambino will run out, and he’ll be free to go. It doesn’t feel much like a victory.

And then, in a move Vinny will remember to his dying day, Carlo downs his drink, reaches for Vinny, downs that one as well, and slams it on the counter. The bartender glares but Carlo doesn’t notice, too busy staring Vinny down as he talks.

“I was a Gambino for twenty-one years, before I walked for good.”

“I know, Carlo, but what good-”

“My old man told me a lot,” Carlo goes on, blithely ignoring Vinny. “Trained me to take over. And some of the shit I know—the statute hasn’t run out yet.”

Vinny freezes, trying to process what Carlo had said. What he means.

“Are you really-?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll be a target. A gangbuster, a goner. You’ll have to go to the mattresses.”

“I don’t care.”

“Carlo, _think_ -”

“I _am_ thinking, Vinny. I’m thinking that I don’t want my name to define me, that I don’t want to let my father get away with what’s happened. My brother is dead, Vin. _Dead_.” Carlo’s voice breaks and Vinny aches for the pain. He can’t imagine what he’d do if he lost any of his family. “I gotta make this right.”

Vinny wishes he had a drink. Too bad his partner—his idiotic, apparently _fearless_ partner—had already drunk it.

“Okay, but you don’t go anywhere alone.”

“Uh, what?”

“You want to turn yourself into a squeal, fine. But I’m sure as hell not losing another partner.” Vinny drags Carlo out of the bar, already trying to remember where the extra sheets for his pullout bed are. Vinny doesn’t trust Carlo’s home, right now. “Let’s go visit the DA.”

Carlo, damn him, grins as if he hasn’t just agreed to paint himself as a target. “Sounds good, _compagno._ ”

* * *

They manage to charge Don Jovanni Gambino with capital murder, conspiracy to capital murder, human trafficking, and, just because they can, tax evasion.

It takes less than twenty-four hours for the news to break that two mafia leaders have been arrested and charged.

It takes less than thirty-six hours for an Italian man, thin and unassuming, to come up to Carlo as he walks out of the courthouse and delivers a kiss of death, murmuring, “A gift from your _sorella_ ,” before disappearing into the crowds.

Vinny, to say the least, doesn’t let Carlo out of his sight for the next two weeks, while they wait for the court date to roll around.

Living with him in a safe house, guards outside the door around the clock, at least gives them the chance to get to know each other outside of work and their previous (unfounded) suspicions of each other.

There are three attempts on his life, the first of which ends with Vinny putting three bullets in a hitman. The next two, thankfully, Beelzebub is around to deal with.

(Everyone wonders why Beelzebub is taking such an interest in this case and none of them get close to the truth of the matter. But soon enough, word’s spread that Vinny Puzo and Carlo Gambino are both under his protection. Daredevil, when he overhears men at the 15th talking about it, can’t help but laugh at Peter’s blatant possessiveness. Matt knows where he gets it from and doesn’t feel the slightest bit guilty for once.)

By the time the court date rolls around, everyone is tense and ready for another assassination attempt. Somehow though, Carlo manages to get on the stand and act as witness, the entire trial going smoothly despite Jovanni looking ready to murder his son the longer it went on.

A few hours later, they got the guilty verdict.

* * *

**Jim (@jimmypics):** @maskwatchnyc I think I have a #beelzebub sighting? But I also think I might be hallucinating? _Attached picture._

[Photo ID: A picture of Lower Manhattan taken from between the bars of a fire escape, looking down on the street. Cars and pedestrians go about their days and the firehouse on the corner is cast in thick shadows by the noontime sun. In the top left corner, a background part of the picture is circled in red. Closer inspection shows a figure in red and black and a horned mask sitting on another figure in black on the roof of an office building of some sort. A dark shadow that might be a gun lays beside them. On the right of the picture, a glass building is labeled _courthouse_ in the same red as the circle.]

 **Hero Finder (@maskwatchnyc):** @jimmypics I don’t think you’re hallucinating. I’m pretty sure that’s #beelzebub sitting on what appears to be an assassin???? Looks like someone wasn’t too happy about Carlo Gambino testifying today.

 **Daily Bulletin (@nycbulletin):** @maskwatchnyc @jimmypics reports following the guilty verdict of Jovanni Gambino claim that a man was arrested immediately after the trial, though the charges haven’t been released yet. Learn more about it tomorrow in the _Bulletin_.

 **Beel’s GF (@lexiadoescosplay):** @maskwatchnyc @jimmypics looks like someone wasn’t pleased about all his good work being threatened XD

 **Jim (@jimmypics):** @lexiadoescosplay what do you mean? I’m a Brooklyn kid so I don’t keep up much with the vigilantes on the island.

 **Beel’s GF (@lexiadoescosplay):** @jimmypics surprised you haven’t heard. It’s all over Trish Talk and WHiH. #beelzebub helped the cops with the mafia war and is the reason anyone was even arrested.

 **Hero Finder (@maskwatchnyc):** @lexiadoescosplay @jimmypics I got a cousin on the force and she says that #beelzebub helped catch the guys but Carlo Gambino (Jovanni Gambino’s son) is the reason they were able to charge the guy. Apparently him snitching is what put Jovanni behind bars.

 **Trish Walker (@trishtalk):** @maskwatchnyc @lexiadoescosplay @jimmypics the entire story is a bit of an underdog's tale. Detectives Puzo and Gambino both had something to prove and #beelzebub got involved for only he knows why. I’ll be doing a full story on it tonight at 6.

* * *

** Transcription of Trish Talk with Trish Walker, May 26th, 2015 **

**Trish** : Welcome to Trish Talk, your local talk show here in New York City. It’s May 26th, 2015 and the weather is a balmy 42 degrees out. Today we have a bit of a departure from our usual information and are going to talk a little about the arrests of Mafia Dons Gambino and Genovese.

 **Trish:** Before we can get into the story though, first we have to meet those involved; namely, Detectives of the 17th Precinct Puzo and Gambino. Vinny Puzo is an Italian-American born here in New York and has made his name as a detective in the last eight years. A few weeks ago, however, Detective Puzo’s partner, Liam Larrick, was found guilty of taking bribes, and extortion. In the following Internal Affairs investigation, Detective Puzo was found innocent of all knowledge of these crimes. Shortly afterward, Carlo Gambino, newly minted detective but a cop for the last five years, was assigned as Vinny’s partner.

 **Trish:** You might recognize Carlo’s last name. That’s because Carlo is the eldest child of Jovanni Gambino, though he never participated in any criminal activity and joined the police force right after getting a four-year degree in criminal justice. It is these two detectives that would lead to the arrests of Jovanni Gambino and Enzo Genovese.

 **Trish:** After Ralph Coppola was found dead in a barrel in Midtown, Vinny and Carlo were assigned to the case. Many of you will remember that several shootings took place the next day, and police confirm that these were conflicts between the Genovese and Gambino families. Vinny and Carlo helped arrest those involved. Interestingly, Beelzebub was first on the scene, though Daredevil appeared shortly after what social media outlets are calling a “Death Knell”, a scream like call that seemed to be some sort of signal and which has appeared a few times since. Either way, after arresting gang members, Vinny and Carlo used details found at the body to lead them to a business called NewLife Consulting which was really just a cover for human trafficking. They found DNA evidence that pointed to Geno Gambino as the killer. Sadly, Geno was already dead, his body having been found at the Museum of Modern Art.

 **Trish:** Now this is where things get a little interesting; officials say that a private informant told Vinny and Carlo that the Genovese and Gambino families would be meeting at Gapstow Bridge the night of the 13th. Remarkably, the night of the 12th, there was an uptick in reports that Beelzebub and Daredevil were seen going after suspected mafia members. Whether these dates have any correlation is unconfirmable. What is known is that Beelzebub, though not Daredevil, appeared at Gapstow Bridge and aided in the arrest of Jovanni Gambino and Enzo Genovese. The next day, Carlo came forward with information on his father, willing to testify. And earlier today, his testimony led directly to the guilty verdict delivered to Jovanni.

 **Trish:** But there’s one more piece of information that’s begun circulating via Twitter that may be part of the puzzle. An image shows a figure similar to Beelzebub on the roof across from the courthouse, keeping another figure in black pinned down. While police have declined to comment on the photo itself, they have released a statement saying that wanted mercenary Burt Kenyon was arrested today after the trial. Is this connected? Is there a reason Beelzebub is so invested in this trial? Feel free to call in with your thoughts.

**_There’s the click of a phone being answered._ **

**Trish:** Hi, you’re on Trish Talk. Would you like to comment on the trial or Beelzebub?

**Caller:** _Well, I mean, I think it’s pretty obvious Beelzebub doesn’t want the mafia running around shooting each other in the streets._

**Trish:** Very true. Do you think it’s him in the Twitter photo?

**_There’s the sound of rushing wind and traffic._ **

**Caller:** _Oh, yeah. For sure. I’d say he probably didn’t take kindly to a hitman going after a good cop for doing the right thing._

**Trish:** You think the Kenyon was targeting Carlo?

**Caller:** _Makes sense considering Mafia doesn’t usually take too kindly to their godfather being arrested. Besides, when do any of the street thugs suffer snitches?_

**Trish:** That’s…awfully well thought out.

**_There’s a distant cheer and call of ‘I love you Beelzebub!’ from the other side of the line._ **

**Trish:** I-wait, are you Beelzebub?

 **Beelzebub(?):** _Uh, for the sake of my lawyer’s blood pressure, I’m going to say no?_

**_There’s the sound of a scream, echoed through the call, rising and hollow as a Death Knell._ **

**Beelzebub (!):** _Shit, gotta go. Love your show, Trish!_

**_There’s the sound of a dial tone._ **

**Trish:** Holy shit.

**[End Transcript.]**

* * *

_A few days later…_

“Vin, do you listen to anything besides Sinatra?”

“Why would I?”

“So I don’t go crazy and murder your ass?”

“Sinatra is art, Carlo. You saying you don’t like art?”

“I’m saying I like diversity in my life, Vin. Whatever, you willing to drop me off?”

“’Course, _compagno_. But, uh. Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to come to dinner with me. My family would like to meet you.”

“Even though I’m a Gambino?”

“ _Because_ you’re the best Gambino. And my partner.”

“Yeah, alright. Maybe I’ll get to see you mangle another pizza.”

“I regret telling you that story.”

* * *

In another part of Hell’s Kitchen, a man in purple looks through some photos.

**Author's Note:**

> Next time we get Jessica Jones season 1 and I'm sooo excited. Outline is already written, though it may be longer/may be shorter bc there's a lot more material to work with/that doesn't need to be retold so I'm not super sure what the length is going to end up as. Keep an eye out for that.  
> (Have I really been doing one of these a week? Does not feel accurate, I'm spoiling all of you.)  
> Feel free to come yell at me at tumblr where I do bonus content and writing updates; https://kilannad.tumblr.com/


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